


Demon Dean & Soulless Sam Teaser

by the_beating_of_her_wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Blood Drinking, Daddy Kink, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_beating_of_her_wings/pseuds/the_beating_of_her_wings
Summary: Update: See Black Eyes and Blood Lust for the story.Inspired by a fun "what-if" conversation about Demon Dean & Soulless Sam teaming up. There's a back story and set up, but I didn't include it here. This is just a teaser chapter to see if/how well it works. If there's enough interest I'll write the whole story.It's dirty, please enjoy responsibly.As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated, I'd love to know what you think.Thank you for reading!My jam: Closer - Nine Inch Nails





	

A wave of chills and gooseflesh rippled across Dean’s skin the moment he heard Sam’s footsteps moving down the hall to toward the dungeon. He choked back his anticipation, sweetened by fear, masking his arousal with a cocky expression, and waited for his brother to enter.

The door swung open with a slow grinding creak, revealing a tall silhouette. Sam dropped his long, powerful arm from the door to his side and he stepped into the cool, dark confines of the Winchesters’ dungeon, his elegant stride like that of a hungry cat, all graceful lines and sleek muscle. He came in close to his brother, a cold light in his gaze where his soul once burned bright. He smirked with half his mouth at his pet.

“Stand up, Dean,” he ordered, cool and even toned.

Dean blinked slowly in defiance, his eyes filling in black, deep as a starless night with just the faintest shadow of green swirled in the darkness.

“Your black eyes don’t scare me. Now, stand up,” Sam repeated, his voice promising violence.

Dean swallowed involuntarily, his Adam’s apple pressing hard against the thick leather collar Sam made him wear, heavily warded to dampen his demonic powers, tight enough to choke him at Sam’s whim, a tool to humiliate and control him for Sam’s pleasure. A rush of heat flooded his veins, igniting his cool blood. It spread fire to his extremities and his cock.

Sam narrowed his cold hazel eyes, raised an eyebrow. He was losing his patience.

Dean stood up. He knew how far he could push before Sam pushed back, his brother had made that crystal clear in the early days of their new relationship dynamic. Dean had risen from the dead a Knight of Hell, but to his younger brother, who had foolishly traded his soul for Dean’s life, he was little more than a dog, and he would be chained, beaten, and controlled like one.

“Take off your shirt,” Sam said, the danger in his voice scaled back, replaced by pure sex.

Dean began to unbutton.

“Slower,” Sam corrected, his glistening lips pulling back into a half smirk despite himself. Incapable of loving anything anymore, dominating Dean was as close as he could get. Watching Dean slowly remove his shirt, bare himself to Sam, obey him, made his head spin, his heart pound, and his cock swell.

Dean stood waiting for Sam’s next command, though he knew what was coming.

“Hands on the wall, Dean,” he growled, his need growing exponentially.

Dean lowered his head and turned toward the wall. He leaned forward, his arms outstretched, placing his hands on the wall as instructed. His heart hammered in his chest. His cock throbbed in his jeans. He had grown to welcome, even crave, Sam’s brutal treatment, the violence and humiliation. He let Sam punish him for everything he had ever done, every failure, every fuck up, every time he had let him down when they were just human brothers. Now they were so much more.

Sam came in close behind him and kicked his legs further apart. He pulled his demon blade out of its sheath on his hip.

“Good boy,” he purred, running the point of the blade down Dean’s spine, leaving an angry red welt.

Every muscle in Dean’s body tensed. He didn’t understand why Sam couldn’t just get on with it, why he had to be such a fucking tease. He gave in to his searing desire for Sam, just a little, arching his back as the blade came again, harder this time but not yet breaking the skin. Sam made a low, animal sound behind him, his breath ghosting across the back of his neck, and Dean broke out in a sweat.

Sam pushed the side of Dean’s collar up to his jaw with the demon blade, scraping the edge against his skin. Dean held his breath, his blood pounding through him. He wanted it all; the pain, Sam, the suffering when Sam refused to allow him to come, the humiliation when Sam made him be a good boy.

Sam shook all over. He fought to hold back, to drag out Dean’s torment a little longer, but his hunger was too great, his addiction all-consuming. He sliced deep into the flesh of Dean’s neck, his eyes rolling in ecstasy as Dean grunted with the pain and the scent of his demonic blood clouded the air. Sam quickly sheathed his blade. He pushed up tight against his brother’s sweat slick back, stretching one hand over his shoulder, slamming his large hand down over Dean’s on the wall. He wrapped his other arm around Dean’s chest, crushing him in his bloodlust, digging his nails into his skin. He bit down on the wound in Dean’s neck, forcing it open wider, swallowing the first cascade of blood with a fierce moan.

Dean gritted his teeth against the pain. His instinct was always to fight Sam off, but he had learned that Sam’s punishments were brutal and merciless, so he stood still and weathered Sam’s attack. He pushed away the pain and panic of being bled, instead focusing on the pleasure he took from Sam’s mouth, hot and savage against his cool skin, the firm sculpture of Sam’s muscular chest against his back, their sweat mingling through the fabric of his tshirt, the distinct, threatening shape of Sam’s hard cock. Dean knew one day Sam would bring it out to play, force him over the chair and put it in him. Sam would fuck him harder than he’d ever been fucked before, tearing and bruising him, pounding him harder the more he screamed until he had no voice left. Dean, overcome with lust, pressed his ass back against Sam, moaning through gritted teeth, momentarily forgetting his place.

Sam pulled back from the knife wound. “You aren’t holding still, Dean,” he growled, his voice wet with his brother’s blood. “I thought you were going to be good this time.”

Dean exhaled sharply. He hung his head and braced himself. “I’ll be good,” he said submissively. “I’ll be a good boy for you.”

Sam smiled a bloody smile, the dark light in his eyes shining. He stroked Dean’s hair, watching him tense then relax then tense again, so unsure of what was coming next and so desperate for Sam’s affection. Sam wrapped his arm back around Dean’s chest, found his nipple, and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. Dean shuddered. Sam ran his tongue through the slick wound.

“Tell me to stop,” Sam whispered, licking softly.

“Stop,” Dean gasped.

“Again.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” Sam coaxed, still working Dean’s nipple and lapping at his blood.

“Stop hurting me,” Dean answered obediently.

“Struggle,” Sam commanded and Dean obeyed, testing the balance of their power. Sam forced him closer to the wall, displaying his dominance.

“Stop,” Dean repeated, his tone stronger this time, struggling harder against the monster his brother became when full of demon blood. Sam allowed him some play, though he could easily overpower him

Sam bit down on Dean’s earlobe and moaned, the same low, animal sound that lit Dean up from the inside. Sam pressed closer. Dean felt him unfasten his jeans and pull his thick cock out. Dean’s heart pounded faster as Sam rubbed his cock up and down against his back, sliding across his sweat soaked skin, stroking himself.

“Stop,” Dean gasped, forcing himself to hold still and not throw himself back at Sam.

“Say my name,” Sam said darkly.

“Stop, Sam.” Dean’s voice was growing stronger, more desperate. He trembled with the effort to hold still and not pull his own jeans down and offer himself to his brother for the taking. His cock throbbed painfully against its denim prison, denied any hope of release.

“Call me Sammy,” Sam continued, his voice deepening, darkening as he stroked himself closer to the edge.

“Sammy, stop. Stop hurting me, Sammy,” Dean whined, breathless and desperate for his brother’s touch.

Sam chewed at the back of Dean’s shoulder, bucking his hips, grinding his cock against Dean's back, slippery with sweat.

Dean threw his head back and closed his eyes tight.

“Call me Daddy.” Sam snarled, marking Dean's shoulders with bites, rolling his nipple, fucking himself against his back.

“Daddy,” Dean gasped, his voice breaking. “Stop hurting me, Daddy.”

Sam moaned, holding Dean tight to keep himself upright.

“Daddy, _please,_ ” Dean begged, and pushed Sam over the edge, the combination of those words and desperation in Dean’s voice doing him in. He bucked wildly at Dean’s back, grunting loudly, uninhibited. Dean felt him erupt, hot and wet, across his back. Sam clung to his brother, riding out the waves of his orgasm. Dean, ever obedient, held still, though the sounds and scent of Sam’s orgasm had his own cock starting to drip.

Sam stroked Dean’s hair again. “Such a good boy,” he cooed. “Go ahead. You earned it.”

Dean hesitated. Sam never let him come, never let him touch himself, never allowed him a release.

“It’s ok,” Sam coaxed, reaching down to unfasten Dean’s pants and pull out his cock. Dean gasped in a sudden breath when Sam touched him. Sam gently pulled Dean’s hand from its place on the wall and guided it toward his cock. Dean wrapped his hand around it and tentatively began to stroke. Sam wiped his other hand off, put both arms around Dean, began pulling and rolling his nipples.

“Who’s Daddy’s good boy?” Sam purred behind him, peppering his neck with kisses.

Dean leaned his head back onto Sam’s shoulder and stroked himself with abandon. He was so close already.

“That’s it, show Daddy what you like.”

Dean’s knees buckled as he came, harder than he could remember ever having done, grunting Sam’s name. Sam caught him, held him close to keep him upright.

“Good boy,” Sam said with a gentle kiss to the top of Dean’s head. Dean sagged into his brother, grateful for his tender touch after so much violence.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Sam said, his voice cold once more. He dropped Dean to the floor like a pile of soiled laundry. “I have things to hunt.” He strode out of the room, as cold as when he had come in, locking the thick, warded door behind him.

Dean sat in the dark, healing, discarded, waiting until Sam needed to power up again.


End file.
